


Never underestimate a Hobbit

by Lakritzwolf



Series: Flufftober 2018 [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, angry Hobbit is angry, but all is well that ends well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: Flufftober Challenge 2018: Trope SundayOne - Canon Fix-it





	Never underestimate a Hobbit

**Author's Note:**

> With help of the [Shakespeare Insult Generator](http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/shake_rule.html)

Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, was not angry. He was absolutely furious. _That_ , Bilbo could understand. And _that_ , he could easily forgive. What he said next, however, made the Hobbit angry as well.

“Throw him down the ramparts!”

Bilbo felt a righteous anger rise within him, but as he stood there with his mouth open thinking of something to say, Thorin had him suddenly by the yokes.

“Aha! And what do you think you're doing, Thorin? Tossing me down there to meet a very painful unpleasant death, after all I've done for you and your... your company? This is not... you are not the Thorin Oakenshield I have come to know and l... like, the one who entered my humble home and commanded respect for his sheer presence and not because he intimidated people into it!”

Thorin's eyes were still alight with fury, but his grip relented the tiniest bit.

“And to think that there was a time when I could not imagine a better, greater King under the Mountain than you! You have changed so much I hardly recognise you! The Thorin I knew would never have gone back on his word! He would never have suspected his kin of treachery!”

Thorin let go of him, eyes still glowing. “I should have suspected it from a _burglar_ , however.” There was no mistaking what he thought about said burglar when he said that word.

“Yes, fine, call me a burglar, if that's all I am to you! After... after saving you and your company from trolls, from spiders and from elves and... saving your life from Azog, might I mention! Yes, that was me, your... your _highness_!” Rarely had anyone been able to put so much scorn into a single word. Thorin's eyebrows drew themselves together.

But Bilbo was talking himself into a rage and ignored any signs of danger. “Oh, don't you think I am afraid of you, you... you... dwarfish...” He squeezed his eyes together and rolled his feet forward from the sole onto his toes. “Dwarf!” 

Thorin blinked.

Bilbo's locks, outgrown as they were, teetered around in front of his eyes and arms akimbo, he thrust out his chin and glared at Thorin through the strands of hair. Around him, the members of the company slowly retreated out of the blast radius. 

“And what happened about: _‘I would chose each and every one of these dwarfs over an army from the Iron Hills’_ , huh? They came and stood by your side, fought by your side, bled by your side, got insulted by elves by your side and this is how you repay them? By going mad over some... over some worthless trinkets!”

“Worthless?” Thorin growled, but Bilbo was not about to be stopped.

“Compared to loyalty, honour and a willing heart, and the blood of your kin? Completely worthless, and the Thorin I knew and admired would never have put the lives of his kin above any amount of gold in this world!”

Bilbo's whole, small frame trembled with anger as he thrust an accusing forefinger into Thorin's face. Thorin's eyes widened slightly and darted back and forth, making him look like a wolf that was assaulted by an angry rabbit. Then he caught himself and all but snarled at the Hobbit, but Bilbo's forefinger did not waver.

“I am not afraid of you, you... you... impertinent pumpion! If you want to kill me for telling the truth than you are even more worthless than I ever could have imagined! How could you fall so far?!” He swallowed, but he did not flinch under Thorin's glowering gaze.

“ _’I will not part with a single coin’_ , my boot! Do you know where I heard that sentence before? These exact words? They were spat at me by Smaug the Terrible himself – and he's got some bad breath, I can tell you – and it was the exact choice of words: I will not part with a single coin! You sound exactly like the dragon you set out to vanquish, you pig-headed excuse for a dwarf king!”

The empty space around Bilbo grew in diameter, a fact that was lost on the Hobbit who still had his eyes on Thorin. And Thorin was watching the Hobbit with widening eyes, mouth hanging open like a half-wit's.

“And now go and do your worst, you fustilarian, go ahead and kill me, and kill everyone else of those loyal and honourable dwarves who followed you through such peril and still stand by your side despite you having done naught but insult and scorn them!” He gave his forefinger another thrust so it almost went up Thorin's nose.  
“Go ahead and kill me, why don't you, for speaking the truth because no one else dared! Go and kill me, you beslubbering, milk-livered pignut!”

Behind him, someone unsuccessfully tried to suppress a snort.

“What... what did you call me?” Thorin's voice was a low growl, his eyes narrowing and his chest heaving under heavy breaths as he took a step towards the Hobbit.

“I called you...” Bilbo said in a faltering voice, and his forefinger wavered. Then his nose twitched and the forefinger was thrust out again with renewed vigour. “I called you a beslubbering, milk-livered pignut and kindly ask to put an end to me as nothing you can do to me can hurt me more than the loss of the Thorin I knew and respected and l... liked.” His nose twitched again and Bilbo finally dropped his finger and crossed his arms, rocking on his feet as he looked at Thorin with lips pressed together and his head tilted to the side. 

Thorin stood still as a statue and stared at Bilbo as if seeing him for the first time and not quite believing his eyes.  
And then, with a motion so slow as if he was moving underwater, he reached out – Bilbo flinched a little at that, but only a little – and took the heavy crown resting on his brow to look at it as if he was seeing it for the first time, too. He looked up at Bilbo again, and the crown clattered to the ground.

Around them, the company held their breaths.

Thorin shook his head, looking like someone just awoken from a bad dream, and when his eyes rested on Bilbo again a smile began to spread on his face; an honest, open smile of disbelief mingled with deep affection. And before Bilbo could react, Thorin had closed the distance between them and pulled the Hobbit into a fierce, rib-cracking hug even worse than the one on the Carrock. He lifted Bilbo off his feet and, ignoring the undignified squeal of surprise, swirled the Hobbit around like a child before setting him down again with a hearty laugh of utter relief and warmth. 

Around them, the company breathed in relief, chuckled along with their leader, but hesitantly, not quite believing the nightmare had ended, and that it had ended this way.

“My dear Bilbo Baggins,” he said, his voice deep and rich and full of warmth. “What would I do without you?”  
Bilbo's nose twitched and his head jerked slightly back, but then a hesitant smile began to show on his face. “Is... is that you, Thorin?”  
“It is, Master Baggins.” The smile on Thorin's face did not waver. “And I have you to thank for it.”

Bilbo's smile grew, widened into a grin, and as the first chuckle escaped him, Thorin leaned forward, his sapphire eyes boring into Bilbo's with a fire that was neither anger nor madness.  
“If you call me that again, however...” he said, and his voice was low and deep and rich and vibrant and made Bilbo think of honey in whiskey, sweet and smoky, and entirely inappropriate things that only existed in his wildest dreams, “... then I shall not answer for the consequences.” 

Bilbo could only nod upon hearing that voice, and try not to think about the smell of wood smoke and pipe weed and leather, and skin warm and slick with sweat and...  
The smile on Thorin's face and the glint in his eyes told him that Thorin must have been reading his thoughts. 

“I'm glad that this is over,” Balin said softly and the dwarves around him agreed.  
“That Bilbo sure has some balls for standing up to a madman like that,” Bofur said with a chuckle. 

Thorin's eyes burned into Bilbo's soul and the smile made his heart drop into his stomach. “We'll see about those,” Thorin said, and it sounded like a promise.

* * *

Nowadays they laugh about it, that moment the darkness broke so many years past. Sitting on the bench next to the door of Bag End, smoking a pipe, they often reminiscence about those days.

“Sometimes I am still surprised I survived that,” Bilbo often says.  
“But I am happy you did,” Thorin usually replies. 

They exchange a look then, and a smile, and as a couple of smoke rings rise up into the sky just reddening with the setting sun, with the air smelling of hay and the apple pie Mrs Bilberry down the hill is baking, they clasp hands and entwine their fingers.


End file.
